


Arguments and Apologies

by BorntoShipVictuuri



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Apologies, Arguing, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Light Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff, Self-Doubt, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:27:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29983536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BorntoShipVictuuri/pseuds/BorntoShipVictuuri
Summary: Viktor has a bad day, and wrongly takes it out on Yuuri.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri & Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri & Yuri Plisetsky, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Victor Nikiforov & Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 8
Kudos: 115





	1. Never Enough

**Author's Note:**

> TW FOR ANXIETY, PANIC ATTACKS, NEGATIVE/ DESTRUCTIVE CRITICISM, ARGUMENTS AND SWEARING. BEWARE OF THIS WHEN READING THAT.
> 
> The next chapter or two will be angsty, but after that, things will lighten up a little. Enjoy! :)

“What _was_ that today in practice, Yuuri? You’re clearly not trying hard enough,” Viktor criticised as they walked through the door to his apartment. Yurio, who was stood on his phone, glanced up and raised an eyebrow in surprise at how negative the man was being about his fiancé; usually he would be all over him, praising him to the high heavens.

But not today.

The teenager suspected that it had something to do with the fact that he had messed up his own routine in practice earlier, with Yakov refraining from yelling at him to bark at Viktor constantly. Subsequently, he’d cursed the man out in Russian when he was talking to Mila, and therefore couldn’t hear him, and had ran his hand through his silvery hair the way he always did when he was stressed out. Still, even he saw no need to take it out on Yuuri, who had done nothing wrong. Yes, his landings from their jumps had been sloppy, but his step sequences had been nothing short of flawless, in his eyes. Of course, though, Viktor Nikiforov, the Living Legend, who could seemingly do no wrong, was the expert, so he thought otherwise, then surely, he must be right. Unless he wasn’t, and was simply wound up and exhausted, and taking it out now on his significant other.

Which he seemed to be doing right now, but it was none of his business, so he quickly glued his eyes back to his phone, focusing his attention on texting Otabek, whom he’d formed a fast friendship with. His training was going well, apparently, and Yuri, ever supportive of him, was glad to hear it. They were planning to meet up in several weeks’ time, in fact, and he was looking forward to it immensely. He was planning to stay in Almaty for a week, away from his usual responsibilities, which was great; even professional athletes needed a break sometimes, he’d learned over the past few months. Yet, for the time being, he was unfortunately stuck with the two idiots.

“Viktor, what do you mean?” Yuuri asked, frowning, as he crouched down to pet an enthusiastic Makkachin, who had dashed over to him at the speed of light, faster than she’d ever ran for Viktor before, and choosing Yuuri over Viktor, thus only serving to enrage the man further.

“I’m going to go and get a shower,” Yuri muttered, just in case either of them actually cared, God forbid. Alas, they were too busy being trapped in their own little world with each other, as usual. He sighed; although he should have been accustomed to that type of treatment by now, he wasn’t. Besides, he kind of _liked_ it when they suffocated him with their love and attention-it made him feel wanted and cared for. Only a select few people had made him feel that way in his life, and they were two of those people-until he’d moved in with the pair of lovebirds, anyway. Oh well. He shrugged it off, knowing full well that it was nothing personal, and that’s just how the couple were with each other all of the time.

Ignoring Yuri, Viktor rolled his icy-blue eyes, the frustration in them gleaning out for all to see, the tension in the room palpable at that moment. “Yuuri, your landings today weren’t clean in the slightest. In fact, I’d even go as far as to say that they were terrible. Your landing from the quadruple flip was messy, your landing from the triple Lutz has some major room for improvement, and don’t even get me started on your quad toe loop. Why aren’t you trying?”

Yuuri flushed, his eyes growing watery. “I thought I did well today, Vitya,” he defended. “My step sequences were good. Strong and solid, my movements were light and fluid, and I felt like I really made the music my own, you know?”

Viktor laughed, bitterly. “Are you serious? Your movements were clumsy and chunky. Actually, I think you’re putting on weight again, little piggy.” He patted Yuuri’s stomach, a dangerous glint in his eyes. He tilted his head, his expression patronising. “We might have to put you on a diet, Yuuri. Also, I think you should go for a run about three times a day. Maybe do some more ballet practice, to get those movements fluid and light, like you wrongly claim they were today. You’ll be working for an extra hour a night, too. No longer, because that way, you have time for extra practice, as I know you like to do that privately. Anyway, that’s the way things are going to be for the foreseeable future. Got it?”

Yuuri was even more flustered than he had been a few moments prior. Was he really that terrible? Yuri had recorded some of his practice for them, and he’d been impressed by his step sequences. He was improving. Or so he though, that was. Clearly, he was wrong, though. Perhaps he couldn’t trust his own judgement; Viktor was the five-time World Champion out of the two of them, after all. He knew what was the best for Yuuri, didn’t he? Vaguely, he recalled Yakov shouting at Viktor a lot that day, because his movements had allegedly been ‘tired’, ‘lacklustre’, ‘unoriginal’ and ‘lacking in finesse’. It was oddly humbling seeing the behind-the-scenes of his performances-he wasn’t perfect, but of course, Yuuri knew that at this point. What he’d said had been hurtful, however, and made him feel nauseated and physically sick with nerves. It had seriously knocked his confidence in himself, that he had only gained recently. Weren’t coaches supposed to build up your confidence, not tear it down?

All these questions ran around his mind, tripping over each other in an attempt to make themselves heard. His eyes were now shiny with tears. He couldn’t help it; Viktor had seriously upset him with his words. Sometimes, he didn’t realise how blunt and tactless he was being, but that was no excuse for his deliberate cruelty. He knew full well how insecure Yuuri was about his weight, but he dared to taunt him about it, all the same. What the actual hell was wrong with the man? Would he like it much if Yuuri teased him about his receding hairline? He sure didn’t think so. His upset was suddenly replaced by a raging fury. No matter how hard he tried, it was never enough for Viktor. Well, enough of that, already. He was at breaking point, now.


	2. Anger and Insecurities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Viktor continue to argue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW FOR ANXIETY, ARGUING, PANIC ATTACKS AND DESTRUCTIVE CRITICISM! Sorry if it's OOC or anything, I just think Viktor would be under extra stress and release it the wrong way. He isn't being mean on purpose, but what he is doing is harmful and wrong and is something he needs to work on. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! :)

“Are you kidding me? When Yuri recorded me earlier, we both agreed I did well. Even Yakov thought so, too. He told me as much when we were leaving,” he revealed, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. It was true, to be fair. He’d impressed Yakov today, and he was proud of it. “What’s up, Viktor? Are you upset that he kept critiquing you constantly throughout the day? Is that it? Well, guess what, Viktor. You’re not infallible. You’re not perfect. You might forget it sometimes, but you’re a human being, not a god.”

This time, it was Viktor’s turn to flush. Outrage crossed his face, replaced rapidly with anger. “What the actual fuck, Yuuri? You’re just jealous of my abilities, of how much better I am than you are at skating, how you’ll never catch up to me.”

Yuuri gasped. That was a sensitive subject; they never compared themselves to each other, but now he’d just gone and crossed that line, taken a step too far. He wasn’t wrong, of course, but that didn’t make the truth hurt any less.

“Firstly, that’s not true. Secondly, Viktor, why are you tearing me apart today? What’s wrong? Have I done something?”

Viktor nodded, smirking. “Yeah, you performed badly today, that’s what you’ve done.”

A year ago, he would have just stood there and took it while Viktor continually insulted him, but not now that he was confident in his skating abilities, not now that he didn’t idolise him. “Why would that bring you any sort of satisfaction if I did? I thought you were supposed to be my coach. Coaches are there to support their students. What kind of coach are you?”

Upon hearing this, he stepped backwards, shock written all over his face. “Why would you say that to me? I constantly doubt my coaching abilities, being so new to this and everything- “

Yuuri laughed, without any mirth in it whatsoever. “Yeah, and I constantly doubt my ice-skating abilities. How do you think it feels to have anxiety? It’s debilitating, and you’re not doing anything to alleviate it.” That being said, he moved over to the sofa. Makkachin soon jumped up onto his lap, and he scratched her behind her ears, kissing the top of her head lovingly as though he was her owner, and not Viktor. Then again, he was practically their dog now, not just his. Viktor’s eyes narrowed, and he stood over Yuuri menacingly, his height, which usually made him appear attractive, intimidating to him in this situation.

“I’m sorry, Yuuri,” he barked, “am I supposed to praise you all the time? Clap my hands and tell you what a good job you’ve done? How old are you, six? You should be able to take some sort of criticism in life, at least.”

Did he really not understand what Yuuri was trying to display to him? Was Yuuri truly responsible for spelling it out, word-for-word? “Yes, Viktor, that’s right. Constructive criticism, like, ‘hey, Yuuri, that wasn’t your best performance today’, or ‘Yuuri, your jumps were sloppy earlier, maybe try them again’, or even, ‘maybe you need to change your diet up a little and exercise more’, if you deem that necessary. That’s what constructive criticism is. Your criticism of me was straight-up destructive for my self-esteem and my confidence in my abilities.”

Viktor’s eyebrows furrowed, and Yuuri was promptly reminded that he was infamous for not liking being told what to do. Yakov regularly irritated him whenever he tried to dictate how his performances should go, so no doubt, he would not take well to what he had just explained, but he didn’t care. His thoughts on this issue mattered, and he wanted to make his voice heard, at the end of the day. Was that really so hard to do?

“Don’t tell me what to say or do, Yuuri.” He stepped towards him. Instinctively, his fiancé winced at the sudden movement, his anxiety taking over his actions. “Really, don’t. My criticism of you was perfectly valid, and the sooner, you accept that, the better.”

Yuuri shook his head. “No, that’s not true. You’ve been too harsh with me.”

“Who are you to decide that, huh?”

Well, that one stung. Now, he was being belittled and mocked by someone he believed to be his equal, whom he loved fiercely, but couldn’t help but mildly resent during their argument.

“You act like I’m clueless! You make out like I haven’t been professionally skating for over twelve years, and unofficially skating for longer than that!”

“And you make out like I haven’t been skating for over twenty years! Have some faith in me, I’m not as clueless and dumb as you might think I am at times.”

Yuuri’s jaw dropped. “I don’t- “

“Ha. Yeah, right. Don’t lie to me. Of course, you do. You and Yurio are always calling me stupid- “

“As a joke!”

Viktor dropped his gaze to the floor all of a sudden. “It doesn’t seem like a joke to me,” he practically mumbled. Surprised, Yuuri raised an eyebrow at him.

“But you’re so smart, and it is,” he insisted, reaching out to grab Viktor’s hands and squeeze them, but he roughly moved them away.

“Don’t touch me.”

Odd, considering that most of his love language was physical. “ _Vitenka,_ please- “

In direct response to this, Viktor’s head snapped up and he met Yuuri’s gaze, icy blue and amber brown eyes meeting. “Don’t call me that. Please. I just want you to listen to what I’m trying to tell you. I’m doing it for your own good.”

“So, calling me fat is for my own good, is it?” Yuuri challenged, sounding pissed off. Viktor nodded.

“I think it is. You’re entitled to disagree with my opinion, of course, but it’s what I believe.”

Yuuri took a while to respond, weighing up his words in his head. “I don’t like it when you treat me like I’m some charity project, or something that helped you find yourself. I’m a human being, beautifully imperfect, not your puppet on a string. When will you learn that? It’s not my fault that your words have upset me, and it’s not my fault that I’ll never be as good as you at ice-skating,” Yuuri told him, in a matter-of-fact tone that, for most people, would have left no room for discussion. However, Viktor Nikiforov was not most people, was he?

“Yeah, well,” Viktor yelled, his face magnolia, “it’s not my fault you’re such a monumental screw up that you failed the Grand Prix Final, got in a stupor over it, and needed me to retire and teach you the basics all over again, essentially from scratch!” That was the last straw for Yuuri. His eyes widened, and tears began cascading down his face.

Neither of them noticed Yuri, newly showered and dressed, stood at the door, with his viridian eyes wide in shock. Viktor had never spoken to Yuuri like that. _Never._ Nobody had.

“If I’m such a screw-up, then why don’t you just leave me alone?!” Yuuri shouted, hurt. Yuri winced; he’d never heard the Japanese man shout before. It was completely new, and it scared him, truth be told.

“This is my apartment you’re in!” Viktor pointed out, irritation flickering in his eyes. Yuuri frowned.

“Fine, then I’m taking the first flight back to Hasetsu, first thing in the morning!” he declared, deliberately attempting to provoke an emotional reaction out of Viktor. Instead, he sighed, looking weary all of a sudden.

“Okay. Suit yourself. I’m going out.”

Yuuri looked a little scared, then. “Where?”

“Out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! Next chapter out soon!


	3. Better Without Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri freaks out, but Yuri is there to comfort him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING FOR PANIC ATTACKS, SWEARING AND ANXIETY AND SELF DEPRECATION, DOUBTS. READ WITH CAUTION. 
> 
> That aside, enjoy! :)

He stalked over to Makkachin, taking her leash from the kitchen counter and winding it around her neck, purposefully avoiding Yuuri’s intense gaze. Dumbfounded, Yuri just stood there, watching him leave, slamming the door as he went. With a heartbroken wail, Yuuri began sobbing frantically and slid to the floor, his resolve entirely broken. It went without saying that he was becoming almost hysterical.

“Yuuri?” he whispered, moving over to him. He removed his face from his hands.

“Yurio,” he responded, his voice quiet. “How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough.” The shakiness of his voice spoke volumes.

“I’m so sorry that you had to see that,” he told the boy. Yuri shrugged.

“I’ve seen worse,” he pointed out, in an attempt to reassure him, but it only upset him further.

“He’s right, you know…I am a monumental screw up,” Yuuri groaned. Yuri shook his head so fast, it looked ready to fall off.

“No, Katsudon. That’s wrong-he’s just been angry all day, he doesn’t mean it,” he claimed, hoping that this information would calm him down. It did not.

“If he’s been so angry all day, why didn’t he take it out on me during practice itself, then?” he wondered out loud. “It would have hurt much less if he hadn’t sprung it up on me and done it all at once.”

Yuri hummed in agreement. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said. “But you know how unpredictable he is just as well I do.” Yuuri sighed; he had to admit that it was true.

“But still. This must have been going on for a while, for him to explode at me like that. Being that angry isn’t normal for him, nor is it healthy. I just…don’t know what do. I do think he’s right, though. I am a screw up. Look how badly I failed at the Sochi Grand Prix Final.”

Yuri simply stared at him for a few seconds. “You do realise that if you hadn’t, you’d have never become so drunk and flirted with Viktor at the banquet, and you wouldn’t need him as your coach, either? It was clearly something that was destined to happen. I don’t usually believe in fickle shit like fate and destiny or whatever, but the two of you are meant to be together, as disgusting as it is.” He stuck his tongue out at that, and Yuuri cracked a weak smile at it, before retreating back into himself.

“I need him, I depend on him…because I’m such a failure, right?”

Yuri glared at him in fond exasperation. “Wrong. Nobody thinks you’re weak, Yuuri. Nobody. You’re strong, because of your past mistakes and failures. Besides, I saw potential in you that year. I was watching your performance; your step sequences were mesmerising, almost magical, but it was so frustrating that you flopped your jumps. I only beat you by a small margin last year, so you must be talented. Well, you are. I wouldn’t be saying that if it wasn’t true, believe me.” He was so brutally honest, that Yuuri didn’t doubt that for a second. Yet, he could not bring himself to accept what he had just heard-talented people didn’t get torn apart by their coaches that harshly, did they?

_Did they?_

“But I love him and he just said such horrible things to me, and I know that if Viktor if saying mean things to me about my performances and weight and character, then it must be true,” he decided, sobbing once again. “Maybe…he’d better off without me in his life.”

Yuri gasped. “What do you mean?”

Yuuri took a while to answer, given that he wasn’t breathing properly and that he was crying hysterically at the prospect of Viktor not needing him or even wanting him in his life any more, or at all. “I mean, I should go back home, to the onsen, to my parents, to my sister, to Hasetsu. At least they won’t yell at me, and Viktor can help choreograph your routines, and you can do so in peace, without me.”

Urgently, Yuri grabbed his wrist. "No! Don't go! Please. You can sort things out with Victor, I promise. You love each other, don't you?" Yuuri shrugged and gave the boy a long, mournful look. 

"Honestly, I have no idea, Yuri." Oh no. Things must be serious if he was calling him by his name. "I mean, I love him. Of course I do. But does he love me too? It doesn't seem like it to me. In fact, I'm willing to be bet that he hates me right now, given what I said to him and the way I knocked him down a peg or two."

Okay, so this _was_ serious. He saw how it was. Yet, in no galaxy or universe that existed or could possibly exist, did Viktor Nikiforov not love Yuuri Katsuki. He was certain of that much, at least, if nothing else. Their love for each other was like the Earth tilting on its axis; something that was constantly there, even when it went unseen, and it kept their worlds turning. Undoubtedly, Viktor would be nothing short of absolutely devastated if Yuuri did return to Hasetsu, the way he'd threatened to during their dispute earlier on. That was exactly why he needed to reassure him that Viktor did, in fact, love him, despite his irrational anger towards him. Also, he didn't want him experienced a full-on panic attack. Needless to say, that was the last thing that either of them needed at that moment in time.

"Yuuri, anyone with eyes can see how much he loves you," Yuri began, his words stumbling over each other in a frantic attempt to escape, before Yuuri did something he might regret later. "Come on. It's obvious. He never usually treats you like this, does he?" Yuuri shook his head. "Then why would you doubt how much he loves you?" 

The man sighed, burying his head in his hands once again. "I just-I don't know. This usually doesn't happen, of course. But when things like that happen, my mind spirals and I doubt his feelings towards me, doubt myself, my abilities, my self-worth, everything." 

Yuri faltered, uncertain of what to say or do; he was only a sixteen-year-old boy, really, and therefore he was hardly well-equipped to deal with this. "You wouldn't be engaged to him if you weren't dedicated to each other, committed to your relationship and life and love, though, surely?" 

Yuuri shrugged again, but didn't reply to him, his shoulders shaking. Yuri heard his breaths coming out, ragged and shaky. "Maybe," he said, sounding both exhausted and terrified at the same time. 

"Yuuri? Breathe. Come on, in for five, out for five-" 

"He hates me, I'm ruining his life-" 

"That's not true-" 

Yuuri hunched in further to himself, pressing himself into the sofa of the living room. Yuri stepped towards him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Please, don't touch me when I'm having a panic attack. And, it is." 

The Russian Punk stepped backwards, crossing his arms over his chest, hugging himself. "Okay, sorry, I should have respected your personal boundaries obviously, and asked before doing that. It isn't. He hasn't left you, he can't take Makkachin out for a walk for that long. She'll get cold, you know that. Besides, he wouldn't leave me, as his charge. Would he?" 

"I suppose not." 

"He wouldn't leave you, either." Yuuri ignored him, and continued to drown in his anxiety, leaving a scared, helpless Yuri with no idea how to sort this out. If only Viktor would return soon, and make everything better again...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read this chapter, comment what you think will happen next! I don't know when the next chapter will be out, but hopefully soon! Have a great day! Xx


	4. Regrets and Realisations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor takes Makkachin out for a walk, and realises how badly he treated Yuuri, and how much he actually means to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW FOR SELF-DEPRECATION, ANXIETY AND SWEARING. BEWARE OF THIS WHEN READING. 
> 
> Viktor's perspective on the whole situation. Enjoy! :)

"I shouldn't have said that to him," Viktor told nobody in particular, unless you counted Makkachin, his dog. "I shouldn't have said that at all." Fortunately, there was nobody around to see him seemingly talking to himself like a madman. 

The dog didn't even bark in response; even she seemed to be irritated with him that day. From the beginning of the day, the world had been pit against him, or so it felt, anyway. He'd woken up late, his alarms not working. Both Yuris had been out on a run with Makka, so they hadn't been able to wake him up, unfortunately. Yuri had snapped at him for allegedly 'stealing' his shampoo, even though that was utter nonsense, in his mind. Then, he nearly burnt their breakfast, leading to another, jokey _'Bikutōru wa bakadesu'_ comment from Yuuri, accompanied by a smug smirk from Yurio. After that, it started raining when he was on the way to practice, ruining the hair he'd spent so long styling that morning. 

To make matters worse, upon arriving at the ice rink, Yakov had yelled at him for being late, and had shown him some recent rumours surrounding him and Yuuri, about their wedding, rumours which he had to refused to dispute, alternatively opting to wink at the people interviewing him the day prior, and act ambiguous, not giving them any real answers. Naturally, Yakov strongly disagreed with this. So, there had been that. He hadn't slept well that night, due to stomach issues, subsequently causing him to be tired, and leading to Yakov claiming that his movements lacked finesse, coordination, even. Originality and spark were two things that were missing, too, according to his coach. In the mood that he was already in, the comments had stung, especially when he watched Yuuri out of the corner of his eye and observed that he was faring far better than him in practice that day, stirring jealousy in him. 

Still, that was hardly an excuse for what had happened next, was it?

He'd shouted at Yuuri, his Yuuri. His precious, adorable, amazing, beautiful, caring, incredible Yuuri. The man who had given him so much love and life, who had changed his life for the better. Yuuri was his world, and his world was Yuuri. When he woke up in the morning, the first thing he saw was his face. He would whisper 'good morning' into his ear to wake him up, and hear his raspy, early morning voice, softened by sleepiness. He'd respond back, telling Viktor he loved him, and then they'd kiss for a while. It was tender and sweet and perfect. Yet, this was the same person he'd hurt, the same person he'd criticised and yelled at. He had used his insecurities against him, by alluding to his weight, when, if he had done the same thing about his physical appearance, it would have been painful. It had hurt a lot as it was when Yuuri had asked him what kind of coach he was, to not support him. 

It was a valid point, to be fair. What kind of coach _was_ he? Not a good one, it seemed. That was for sure. His criticism hadn't been constructive, thinking about it in hindsight. His judgement had been so clouded by anger, stress and irritation that he hadn't been able to see where his fiancé was coming from, deemed what he was telling him unreasonable. But now that he had taken some space and distanced himself from the situation, in the fresh air and with his dog by his side, he could see where he had been coming from, and looked at the situation from a new perspective. He ran through the events in his head: they had arrived home with Yurio in tow, as usual, after a day of practice. Nothing out of the ordinary there. Then, he watched as his dog had bounded up to Yuuri, not him, and for some reason he couldn't put his finger on, it hurt. It felt like a betrayal of loyalty, which was ridiculous and irrational, but how he saw things at the time. He'd suddenly began critiquing Yuuri on his performances that day for no apparent reason, when in reality, he had done really well. Even Yakov had praised him. Viktor supposed that he'd been jealous about that, too. He'd had garnered nothing but criticism from him all day long, and it was humiliating. 

Then, Yuuri had rightfully responded to said criticism feeling insulted, as he should have done. He recognised exactly how unfair Viktor was being on him, even when he wasn't willing to see it in himself. He had been kind, albeit firm, about this at first, which had only angered him further-he'd been deliberately attempting to invoke an emotional response in him, and felt like he wasn't being successful enough in this, so he pressed on, to the point of Yuuri breaking and snapping at him, and understandably so. Viktor had been embarrassed by something his lover had said, and lashed out, pretty harshly, he realised. 

_Monumental screw up._ That was precisely what he'd called him. Why had he done that? Why the hell had he said that? Even he knew that it was out of order to call him that. For the record, he hadn't meant it-he'd broken one of his world records, so how could he possibly be a failure or screw up? Anybody else would have pointed out his world record, and his Grand Prix Final silver medal. Yet, he wasn't anyone else. He doubted himself to a large degree. At the end of the day, he did have anxiety, after all, which made him feel that way a lot of the time, and-

Oh, God. He'd just remembered that Yuuri was susceptible to experiencing anxiety attacks. Surely, somebody saying mean things to him couldn't possibly cause one, though, right? It would have to take something else to cause that. Yuuri might be beating himself up about him-he could be very self-deprecating towards himself at times-but it wouldn't have caused that. Once, he'd witnessed him have one, and it had been terrifying for both parties involved, but he'd managed to coax him out of it eventually and get him to calm down. He'd done a lot of crying, and hyperventilating. He'd nearly passed out, but after having practiced breathing exercises he'd found out about online, getting some fresh air and sipping some water, he'd been alright an hour later. Still shaky and anxious, but nowhere near the state he'd originally been in. Anyway, his words-they wouldn't have inflicted that much pain on him to do that. How could they? How could he live with the immense guilt of harming a loved one like that? He already hated himself enough as it was, for how despicably he had treated his fiancé. 

His hands were trembling as he tugged on Makkachin leash, leading her back through the park he'd been trawling through. As soon as they left the park, they would only be ten minutes away from home, or thereabouts. He couldn't stop thinking about Yuuri's face when he'd called him a screw up. A wave of remorse washed over him as he recalled the pain written all over his face. He'd caused hurt, there was no denying that, and he had to go back and make things right. His mind also wandered to what he assumed (or more, hoped) was an empty, meaningless threat. The possibility of Yuuri returning to Hasetsu was, well...unthinkable, really. The one person who had made his life genuinely worth living, not being there with him...it didn't bear thinking about. He remembered when they were separated for a day, after Makka had choked on some buns in Japan. He'd been a complete emotional wreck without him. Truthfully, he couldn't live without Yuuri Katsuki in his life. When he thought Yuuri was ending things, his world had nearly come to a stop, but things had worked out then. 

While he was on his way home, he would have to cross his fingers and hope that they were going to work out in this situation, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this is out of character or anything, but I hope you like it regardless of that! Thanks for taking the time to read this, and have a great day! Xx


	5. Reunions and Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor gets home and realises that he has some level of responsibility to take for what has happened, and that he has an important apology to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW FOR ANXIETY, SWEARING, YELLING. 
> 
> So, I decided to add an extra chapter-the next one will be the last. I hope none of you mind. Enjoy! :)

As could be expected, the yelling started as soon as Viktor entered his apartment. 

"What the actual _fuck,_ you absolute _mudak?_ You're a piece of shit, don't you know that? Why the hell did you call him a screw up and yell at him? You _know_ how anxious Yuuri gets! What is wrong with you? Do you have any idea how much you've upset him? Do you know what you've done? Katsudon is the last person who deserves to have been spoken to so cruelly, and we're both fully aware of that. So, why did you do it? And don't be selfish, _pridurok,_ and tell me that it's because you've had a bad day! This isn't all about you! You've seriously messed up this time, and you need to sort things out." 

Viktor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. The Russian Ice Tiger could be defensive when he needed to be, and clearly now was one of those times. "Yurio, I know that I messed up. Yuuri means everything to me, and I just stormed out like that-I'm so sorry." 

Yuri shot him a disgusted look. "It's not me who you should be apologising to," he pointed out, ruefully. "It's him." He jerked his head towards the door of the room, and Viktor tilted his head to the side slightly, perplexed. Makkachin's leash evaded his grip, and she bounded off to her bowl of dog biscuits. 

"Why? Where is he?" Panic rose in his throat, like a flame. "Is he okay?" 

Yuri's jaw dropped. " _Is he okay?_ Are you fucking kidding me right now? Of course he isn't. What did you expect, that you'd come here and he'd be all happy to see you and running straight back into your arms and that he'd be virtually unscathed by what you said to him? Because that's where you're wrong." 

Viktor's throat constricted with panic. Something had happened to his Yuuri, and it was all his fault. "Why? What happened? What's wrong?" Yuri rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. 

"He had an anxiety attack, Viktor. Because of you." Viktor gasped, his worse fears confirmed. He'd had no idea, up until that point, how much power lay in words, and how devastatingly destructive they could be. 

"He did?" The man asked, dumbfounded. Yuri nodded. 

"Yep. I had to bring him out of it myself. It took almost an hour to fully calm him down, and then, when he did, he ran off to your room. Said he had some packing to do," Yuri explained, frowning as he recalled the frantic gasps for air, the choked noises and the loud wails and sobs that had wracked Yuuri's body, that had only stopped fifteen minutes prior. Naturally, he was still coming down from the anxiety attack, and Yuri didn't blame him. If anybody had spoken to him like that, he would have been hurt too, although he would have displayed that with anger, of course, instead of anxiety. But this wasn't about him; it was about Yuuri, and how hurtful and impactful the words that his coach had uttered over an hour ago had been for him. 

A cold shiver ran down Viktor's spine. "Packing? What for?" Fear was dripping from his voice, and his chest even felt a bit tight, like somebody had squeezed all of the air out of his lungs, suddenly.

Yuri fixed him with another glare. "He claimed that he was heading back home, to Hasetsu, to the hot springs, to be with his parents and sister and Minako and the Nishigoris and Minami instead of with us two and Makkachin. He thinks that you hate him, and he's convinced himself that your life would only be better without him in it, no matter how much I tried to argue otherwise. He really is stubborn, you know."

Viktor's head was swimming. _Home?_ Wasn't this apartment, here in St Petersburg, what Yuuri called home these days? Or was his emotional connection to Hasetsu too strong for that to ever plausibly be a reality? Why would Yuuri leave him, over one argument? Had these insecurities been plaguing him for a long time, perhaps? Had he let all of his anxiety build up to this point? If so, why? He trusted Viktor, he knew that he was there for him and that he could always talk to him about anything he wanted or needed to, at any time. Unless he didn't trust him, that was, which was a whole other issue in of itself. The main thing was, that he was leaving, plunging Viktor's world into darkness and melancholy while doing so. 

"I need to talk to him," Viktor decided determinedly, "and I need to talk to him _now._ He's in our bedroom, did you say?" Yuri nodded, pulling at his sleeves self-consciously. 

"Yep. I think it would be a good idea to try and talk him out of it, because I've tried, but he won't listen to me when he's in that mindset. The only person he'll listen to right now is you, the only opinion he cares about at the moment is yours. He needs you, just as much as I'm guessing you need him." Huh. That boy could be surprisingly perceptive sometimes. 

"Yeah, you're right," Viktor responded, removing his coat and practically flying across the apartment to be with his beloved fiancé. 

Taking a deep breath in an attempt to steel himself enough to be able to talk to Yuuri, Viktor knocked on the door of their shared bedroom. He waited for about half a minute. No response. He knocked again. And again. Eventually, he received a response. 

"Come in," he said, his voice quiet. He sounded broken and defeated, and it pained Viktor to hear him respond like that.

"Yuuri..." Viktor whispered while he stepped into the room, having no idea where to start. To put it plainly, his fiancé was a mess. His face was red and blotchy, his glasses askew, his eyes puffed-up. He was curled up on their double bed, clutching the navy blue sheet like his life depended on it. His hair stuck up as though Yuuri had been dragged through a hedge backwards, and he was pale, bar the blotchiness on his face, and shaking. 

"What do you want?" 

Viktor moved towards him, his movements tentative and uncertain. He thought that Yuuri probably didn't want to be touched right now, and settled for perching on the end of the bed, next to him.

His voice was gentle. "I want to apologise, my love." 

Yuuri raised an eyebrow at him. "Really? How sweet of you." His voice was dripping with sarcasm. 

"Yuuri, please hear me out," his significant other practically begged him. Sighing, he buried his misgivings and decided to let him speak. 

"Fine. But, just so you know, I highly doubt that you'll be able to change my mind about anything."

Well, that wasn't great, but Viktor knew he had to continue with his plight nonetheless. "Yuuri," he began, his own eyes filling with tears. "I treated you terribly don't expect forgiveness. At all. The only thing I want is for you to know how truly, deeply sorry I am. But that won't undo the hurt I've caused. I know that now." 

Yuuri stared at him, not saying a word. "Okay," he said, after a tense minute or two. "Tell me, Vitya. What is it that you want to say to me?" 

Taking another deep breath, Viktor told Yuuri exactly what was on his mind, and what had caused him to snap in the first place. He only wished that what he said could be good enough. If he could be good enough. 

He supposed that he would have to wait and see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! What do you think will happen next? Tell me below, in the comments. 
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read this, and have a wonderful day! ♡♡♡


	6. Forgiveness.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri finds it in his heart to forgive Viktor, and so does Yuri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! I didn't expect this to be as successful as it has been, so thank you for all of your support, I seriously appreciate it and it means the world to me. This is the last chapter of the fic, and I don't plan on writing a sequel for this due to having other ideas and Works In Progress to update but thank you. I hope you all enjoy this last chapter! :)
> 
> L x 
> 
> PS-Trigger Warnings: Anxiety, Swearing, Food, Self-Doubt.

" _Solynyshko,_ you won't believe how unfortunate my day has been today. I woke up late, as you know, I messed up breakfast, it rained on the way to practice, I felt like you and Yurio think I'm an idiot, and my coach was on my ass all day. I've been tired and stressed out as hell recently, and I took it out on you, which you didn't deserve." 

Yuuri nodded. "That's right, I didn't. But your bad day doesn't excuse what you said to me. If I were in your position, I wouldn't have yelled at you like that, or insulted you. I understand that everyone processes their emotions differently, but you need a healthier outlet in which to project your emotions, instead of me." 

Viktor leaned forward, listening intently to his words. Anything he could do to improve himself and make this all right again, he would be more than willing. "I know, and I will in the future. I never meant to snap at you, and I'm so, so, so sorry for how I treated you. I may never forgive myself for specifically targeting your insecurities, calling you a screw-up, and for triggering an anxiety attack. I feel awful about it." 

Yuuri sat up a little straighter, leaning on to the backboard of the double bed. "As you should," he pointed out, fixing him with a dangerous glare. 

"As I should," Viktor agreed, bowing his head in shame. If anyone was a screw up in this situation, he thought, it was him. "Is there anything I can do to make things right?" 

Yuuri shook his head and removed his glasses, wiping his sleeve over his tear-stained face. "No, unless you have a time machine and can somehow go back in time and be a less shitty human being." 

Upon hearing Yuuri swear, Viktor winced a little, made uncomfortable all of a sudden by his uncharacteristically harsh words. "Yuuri, if I could take back those words, I would do so in a heartbeat." 

Yuuri smirked, but his expression was bitter and lacking in mirth. "I'm sure you would, Viktor. That's not going to cut it, though, is it?" 

Viktor stared at his feet, face burning with shame. "No. Of course not." 

Yuuri crossed his arms. "Exactly. So, you didn't really mean it when you called me a fat screw-up, right?" 

He looked appalled. "Of course not! Why would you think I did?" 

Yuuri shrugged, a helpless look crossing over his face all of a sudden. "I get insecure easily. Also, I heard you talking to Yurio-that boy is hardly quiet." Viktor allowed himself a small smile at that. Yuuri seemed oddly pleased at this, which was unusual considering how angry he was at Viktor at that moment. "I had an anxiety attack, Viktor. I haven't had one for months, but what you said to me triggered it. I'm not trying to manipulate or guilt-trip you, I'm just stating the truth. It's not your fault that I have anxiety, of course, but it is your fault for disregarding it and disrespecting me." 

Viktor nodded. "I understand that." 

Yuuri tilted his head to the side. "Do you, Viktor? I mean, do you really?" 

Realising his mistake, he tried his best to backtrack. "Well, I mean, I don't understand what it's like to have anxiety. Obviously. I never will. But I understand the consequences of my actions." Yuuri studied his face carefully, searching for a sign that he was lying. Yet, he already knew that he wasn't. He inclined his head and stood up, heading over to their shared wardrobe. Two-thirds of it contained Viktor's clothes, and the other third had Yuuri's. Some of them, that was. His other clothes were in his suitcase, in the corner of the room. In his haste, Viktor hadn't noticed it. Until now, that was. "Wait-where are you going, Yuuri?" 

Yuuri whipped his head around so fast, it was a small wonder that he didn't get whiplash. "What? Did Yurio not tell you? I'm going back to Hasetsu, to be with Mom, Dad and Mari, and Minako, too. Oh, and the Nishigoris will be there. Speaking of which, they've practically taken Minami in as their adoptive child, now. It's so sweet. I'll message Yuri regularly with updates. You too, if you'd like." Viktor stumbled backwards, taken aback by the passive-aggressiveness littering his voice. 

"Wait. So, this is it? You mean to say that you are really going to leave us?" 

Yuuri sighed, as he chucked several pairs of socks into his blue suitcase haphazardly. "It's not as though you'll both be alone, Viktor. You'll have Makkachin, after all, and each other. Not to mention all of the other ice skaters." The look he gave him was reproaching. 

"What about us? What about our engagement? What about your coaching? Aren't you going to carry on ice skating?" Desperation and despair filled his eyes. 

"No, I'm not," Yuuri muttered, attempting to shove several T-shirts into his suitcase at once, albeit unsuccessfully. 

"Why not?" 

Yuuri turned to face Viktor, and stepped close to him, invading his personal space. "Because _somebody-"_ he poked his finger onto Viktor's chest to punctuate his words-"decided not to believe in me, just because of a bad day that he was having. That same person made me feel inadequate, and that I wasn't good enough." 

Panicking, Viktor grabbed Yuuri's wrist, hoping that, if he tried hard enough, maybe he could stop him from leaving. "Yuuri. Look at me." He did so, doing a poor job of hiding the contempt and anger in his amber eyes. "I love you, so, so much. You mean the world to me. You are more than good enough, and I'm so, so sorry about what I said to you. It wasn't true, for the record; none of it was. You're not fat, not at all. Your body is in good shape right now, and you're beautiful either way. I'd do anything to stop you from being hurt by me-" 

"Then let me go," Yuuri interrupted, removing his wrist from Viktor's vice-like grip, with some difficulty. "Let me go back home and be with people who don't say horrible things to me." 

Okay, so that was a low blow. "I thought this _was_ home!" 

Yuuri laughed. "For you, maybe. Not for me." 

"Besides that, I don't say horrible things to you all the time. I only did it this once. The healthiest thing to do is to talk conflicts through, isn't it? Why don't we do that, instead? Just cancel your flight, get a refund, a-" 

"No." 

Viktor stepped back, paling. "What do you mean, no?" 

Yuuri rolled his eyes. "I meant what I said, Vitya. No. I am going home, and I am not letting you stop me." 

The Russian noticed his hands begin to tremble; evidently, Yuuri had a significant impact upon him. "Please-" 

Yuuri ignored him, returning to his packing, which left Viktor with no choice but to remove every item of clothing that Yuuri tossed in there, in a bid to grasp his attention. "What the actual hell, Viktor?" 

"Please," he begged again, tears filling his eyes and spilling out onto his face. His following words were no more than a tender whisper. "I respect that it's your choice to make, but you could be making a serious mistake, here. I love you so much, Yuuri. You are my everything." Slowly, he reached towards his lover and cupped his face in his hands, pressing his forehead against Yuuri's, his eyes fluttering shut. Much to his surprise, he didn't pull away from him, and he even stroked Viktor's face. He'd missed his touch, craved it badly. Besides, he needed comforting, and Yuuri realised that he had inflicted pain and hurt on somebody he loved. He let out a deep breath, dizzy at the feeling the sudden act of intimacy gave him. 

"I love you too, Viktor, even though you upset me. Then again, we wouldn't be engaged if we didn't have a lover's tiff now and again, would we?" Viktor laughed and pulled away, staring at his fiance with a lovestruck expression on his face. 

"No, I suppose not," he conceded. "However, I still messed up, big time. I understand that." 

Yuuri sighed and stared at his feet. "I said some crappy stuff too, though." 

Viktor shook his head. "Not really, no. Not compared to me calling you a monumental screw-up, or fat. Not compared to me targeting your insecurities on purpose, to make myself feel better. Not compared to me slamming the door and leaving without telling you where I'm going. Not compared to me triggering a panic attack. I was going to come back, Yuuri," he whispered. "I was always going to come back, because wherever I go, whatever I do, everything comes back to you." 

Yuuri grabbed his hand and squeezed it, tight. "Good. I'm glad. I was scared that you hated me, and that you were going to leave me." Viktor kissed his hand. 

"I would never do that to you, my Yuuri. Never." 

Yuuri smiled at him. "I would never do that to you, either. Truth be told, I wanted to scare you a little, make you feel a portion of what I felt earlier." 

Viktor seemed confused. "Wait, so did you end up even booking a flight to Hasetsu?" 

Yuuri's smile widened. "No comment," he said. "It doesn't matter, now. I'm not going." 

Viktor's shoulders slumped with relief. He was being given a second chance. Yes, he'd been entirely wrong, but he could make things better. "Good. I'm glad to hear it." He smiled back at Yuuri, who wrapped his arms around him and held him close. 

"I'm sorry that you had a bad day, Viktor," Yuuri told him. "I can't possibly imagine how stressful today must have been for you. I'm also sorry about what I said. You're a great coach. Yakov was really harsh with you today, but you know that's only because he wants to see you succeed, at the end of the day. Everyone struggles with not feeling good enough from time to time, and I can see now that you're no exception to this. Oh, and you're not an idiot. In fact, I've always considered you as a genius, really."

Viktor laughed into his shoulder. "Then you must have me confused with somebody else entirely," he joked. Yuuri let out a small laugh, and Viktor considered it an achievement. They broke apart after some time, no words needed. They stared into each other's eyes, their eyes saying what their mouths didn't. _You're forgiven. I can't live without you. Please, stay close by my side and never leave me._

"I reckon we should have some soup and bread for tea, sit and watch movies while drinking hot chocolate, and maybe have some bubble baths?" Viktor nodded, agreeing with Yuuri's suggestion. "I'll run your bath. After Yakov put you through your paces, your poor feet must be killing you. Especially after that walk, too." Viktor hummed in agreement, his eyes not leaving Yuuri's. They hugged again.

"Oi, idiots!" Yuri shouted, interrupting them, bursting through the door as though he was entitled to do so. "Oh good, you made up. I've got Ru Paul's Drag Race on if you're interested?" It had become their Friday tradition to watch the show. 

The couple shared a look. "Sounds good to me," Yuuri responded. 

"I'd like that, too," Viktor said. "Who knows, maybe one of us should try drag one day?" 

Both Yuri's wore expressions of outrage on their faces at the mere suggestion.

" _Viktor!"_

"Only joking," he clarified, pulling them both into a hug. He cared about both of them so much and would make sure that they knew it. As for them-well. It went without saying that Viktor was forgiven, in both of their eyes, not just Yuuri's. He may be an idiot, but he was their idiot, and that's all that mattered. 

"So, does a relaxing evening sound good?" Yuuri checked. Yuri and Viktor both nodded, and they moved over to the living room, flopping down onto the sofa, with Yuuri sat between the two of them, feeling safe and warm and comfortable. Although he had been hurt, he could heal, too. His little family was worth the world, and he wouldn't trade it for anything. 

Nothing else mattered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks so much for taking the time to read this! I seriously appreciate everybody's support, I'm glad that you all seem to like this so much! I love you all, stay safe, look after yourselves and have a great day! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read this, it means the world to me. Comment below if you liked this chapter!


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